I read somewhere the best way to make a character is to meet that character. Shake hands, sit them down, ask them a few questions about their life. Seems a little bizarre to me, especially if people are watching. But a starting place is a starting place …

Meet Pele: The overbearing acting President of an organization known as The Naked Justice Squad.

She was hands down the most difficult person in the world to track down. I won’t go into the details, though I will say it involved a fat wad in cab fare, several frantic trips to obscure pay phones, an undisclosed amount of money and a hardcopy of my official driving record deposited in the bottom of a trashcan at a predetermined place and time. To this day I still don’t quite understand all of the hoops I had to jump through.

Taking all of this into account, it’s not a far stretch for you to see what I mean when I tell you she seemed a tad paranoid when I requested an interview. A nice chat over a cold beer was out of the question. She demanded we meet in a public place, some time around midday. She asked who I’d be bringing with me, if I was a law enforcement officer and if I was a carrier of any airborne diseases. Considering her demands I had half-way expected her to show up with bodyguards wearing gas masks. There was no surprise when she showed up, cloaked head to toe in black escorted by the tiniest man I’d ever seen.

(Editors Note: By the way, if you happen upon them, do not touch, speak to, or get near the dwarf. Apparently it is unhealthy for you and your offspring though Pele won’t elaborate on the details.)

I observed the odd pair for a while before I introduced myself. They assumed what appeared to be practiced positions on opposite ends of a public park bench. Passers-by seemed to have an unusual amount of trouble holding on to their drinks or walking without getting hung up in their shoelaces. I was not the only one who noticed the tribulation. The not quite anonymous figure awaiting my arrival obviously held the chaos against her small companion, who sat looking pitifully guilty the entire time.

Distracted by the bizarreness of the whole affair, I realized I had forgotten the code phrase I was directed to use to initiate the meeting. I searched my pockets and found the crumpled napkin. Flattening it against my palm I read it and sighed. I’m not sure how I could have forgotten the phrase in the first place. The smeared blue ink read…

Excuse me but does the word Vagina make you uncomfortable?

I tried to time my arrival so I could avoid offending as many innocents as possible. In retrospect I suppose the word did make me uncomfortable though I can chalk a large part of that feeling up to the circumstances. I did my best to appear non-threatening and as I reached speaking distance, I leaned in to whisper to the shrouded figure the question that had been written on the napkin.